Accidental Reveal
by OspreyEmblem
Summary: An accident in potions class leaves Snape confused, the girls moony-eyed, and (most) of the boys angry.


Harry sniffed his potion cautiously as he added the syrup of hellebore that the recipe called for. He knew that it was definitely the correct color and consistency, but something just seemed a little…off. He wasn't sure, but thought that if maybe he added a bit more of the salamander tail, it would balance out whatever was bothering him.

Harry was intimately familiar with this potion, a basic healing potion, as he had been taking it in the hospital wing for all his time at Hogwarts. _Probably more than I should have,_ Harry thought wryly, reflecting on the various injuries he had sustained over the course of only five years in the magical world. He remembered that the green potion was supposed to taste faintly of old cabbage, with a sort of thickly sweet undertone, but his own was slightly bitter-smelling.

Harry glanced around, seeking out Professor Snape's position, so that he wouldn't get into trouble for adding a strange ingredient at the wrong stage. He didn't even know if it would work, but figured, how much difference could one little slice make? He carefully removed a tiny sliver of salamander tail from his potion's kit, and gently lowered it to his potion.

A soon as the ingredient hit the potion, it hissed warningly and turned a horrible sickly yellow color. Professor Snape looked sharply to where Harry stood, and hurried over, pulling his wand.

"Potter, what exactly did you do?" He hissed urgently, pulling Harry backwards from the now shaking cauldron.

"S-salamander tail—" Harry stammered, craning to look over Snape's shoulder at the bubbling mess.

"EVERYONE DOWN BENEATH YOUR TABLES! NOW!" barked Snape, putting a protective bubble around the volatile potion, seconds before a roaring explosion rocked the entire dungeon. Harry felt Snape push him to the floor and shield him as the potion rained down on the dungeons and dust fell from the ceiling.

As the ringing subsided, people began to crawl from beneath their tables, but Snape said harshly, "Stop! Let me vanish the potion first. It is highly acidic and will eat through your skin easily." Snape got to his feet and waved his wand, vanishing the mangled cauldron and the drops of bubbling yellow liquid splattered all throughout the dungeon before yanking his teaching robe away from himself with a strangled curse. The potion had sprayed over the back of his robe when he shielded Harry, and was now slowly disintegrating it. Snape vanished the remains of his teaching robe and looked back to the class, who had now emerged from beneath the tables and were now staring at him.

Breathing heavily, Snape scanned the faces of his students who were looking at him with morbid fascination.

"What is it?" he demanded sharply. "Why are you staring like that?" No one dared breathe a word. "Well? Out with it! Ms. Granger! Why do you all look as if you've seen a boggart?"

Hermione squeaked and pointed meekly at Snape's chest. He looked down and saw that he was wearing what he normally wore. It wasn't anything brightly colored, and his shirt seemed to still be intact, so he had no clue what she was going on about.

"Yes? What of it?" he said, bemused, wondering why she would be so astonished.

Another beat of silence, then from the Slytherin side of classroom came the voice of Tracey Davis: "Please, Professor, I think what Granger is trying to say is—that is—you—"

"Davis! Kindly get on with it. We haven't got all class period." Snape returned, leaning back against his desk and massaging his eyes with his fingertips.

"Sir, we didn't know you were so—well—_good looking,_" Tracey said in a rush, ducking her head and blushing.

"Excuse me?" Professor Snape said dangerously, "I hardly think that is appropriate, Ms. Davis—"

But he was cut off by Lavender Brown, who eagerly added, "Yes, Professor, I mean, why do you always wear robes if you've got—_that?_" She gestured to the whole of him, eagerly drinking in his appearance.

Snape was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, in addition to his normal black dragon-skin boots. His forearms were strong and brushed with a light layer of dark hair, and he was lightly muscled, which his tight shirt showed off quite nicely. In addition to the dark mark, he had a vine-pattern tattoo running up his right arm, and the tip of what looked like a sort of star peeked out from the edge of his t-shirt on his upper left arm. The rest of his arms were covered in thick scars, from years of serving the Dark Lord and various potions accidents, and his fingers were nimble and long.

A few of the girls sighed, staring strangely at him, and Pansy Parkinson actually put her head on her hand and looked on with a moony expression.

More confused than ever, Snape once again looked down at himself, noticing nothing remarkable, and said, "What exactly are you all going on about? I've nothing exceptional. Have you all been affected by the potion?"

A few girls giggled, and several boys glared at them, then at Snape, quickly getting over their shock in favor of protecting their prospective girlfriends.

Hermione broke through, smiling a bit, and said, "Professor, you've really no idea how you look, do you? I mean, the scars, the muggle clothing—"

A few other girls broke in with their additions to the conversation,

"His arms—"

"So strong—"

"Those fingers—"

"His shirt—"

"So tight—"

"The tattoos—"

"The _muscles—_"

"Enough!" Professor Snape barked, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "This potion should not have affected your cognitive abilities to this extent, and this is hardly classroom conversation. Please get on with your other potions while I attend to Mr. Potter's detention."

Snape led a glum Harry to his office, shutting the door behind him, and laid in.

"Mr. Potter, that was possibly the worst ingredient you possibly could have added to that potion, at just the wrong stage, and it wasn't even in the instructions. It takes skill to be that incompetent. Thirty points from Gryffindor and detention tomorrow night with Mr. Filch. Now back to your station. I want a five inch essay on why we should not add unrelated ingredients to volatile potions, due at the end of the class."

Harry sighed and shuffled to the door to the classroom, bemoaning his idiocy. Just before he opened it, hand on the knob, Harry turned back, drinking in the sight of Snape in his muggle jeans and band t-shirt, and said in an off-hand sort of voice, "You know, Professor, your arse does look rather fit in those jeans."

Harry left Snape standing in his office, staring bewildered after him as he shut the door with a soft click.


End file.
